


New Beginnings

by coryphenis



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Smut, Limerence AU, Mama!Amell, Papa!Alistair, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, pre-parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coryphenis/pseuds/coryphenis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair and Amell share a moment together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Beginnings

Alistair lazily traced a simple pattern along the freckles of Elisabeth’s shoulder, connecting the dots like constellations in the night sky. Noontime sunlight tricked in from behind heavy drapery, dancing across her fair skin. Her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell with each slumbering breath. The young Warden-King (was there a title for such a thing? He’d have to ask Elisabeth when she woke) pressed his lips against his lover’s temple.

  
She smelled of wildflowers.

  
Elisabeth stirred, stretching and scrunching her nose in a yawn. Long-lashed eyes fluttered open, cobalt irises meeting Alistair’s own molten gold ones.

“Mmm. Morning.” She grinned up at him, dimples showing in her cheeks. Alistair smiled back.

  
“You slept in late today. It’s nearly noon.” He gave her a mock-serious glare, the mirth in his eyes betraying him. Elisabeth returned the look, eyebrow raised.

  
“Oh? I wasn’t aware that that was an issue, dearest husband. I think I have a rather good excuse, though.” Her gaze pointedly shifted downwards to rest on her belly, which protruded between them like some miniature mountain. Alistair’s face softened into something that made her insides gooey. He pressed another kiss to her forehead.

  
“I wouldn’t dream of accusing you of laziness, my lovely wife. From what I can tell, being a mother-to-be is quite the task.” His hand trailed from her shoulder to rest on what would soon be – Maker-willing – their first child, the heir that everyone had been hoping for. “You need all the rest you can get.”

  
The woman in his arms snorted derisively. “Oh, stuff it, you great loon.” Elisabeth sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed they shared. Sunlight silhouetted her hair, turning the russet tresses into a burnished cinnamon. She stood, somewhat unsteady on her feet at first, and strode over to the large window, throwing open the brocade curtains.

  
Afternoon light flooded the suite, nearly blinding Alistair, who recoiled with a displeased hiss. “By the – Andraste’s _tits_ , woman, close the damn window!”

  
Elisabeth cackled, unable to contain her rapidly growing amusement. It was moments like this that made the unholy brightness bearable after the contented dusk of sleep. The young queen took the momentary distraction to admire the man she’d married. The sunbeams highlighted the precise curves of his physique, bringing her attention to the way the corded muscles along his upper back and arms flexed as he turned away from the offending light. Her hand rested absent-mindedly on her abdomen, almost as if to comfort the child which grew within her.

  
She eventually took pity on her poor, defenseless spouse, and drew the draperies to a halfway point, blocking out most of the sun while allowing herself enough to see by. Alistair opened one eye, testing the proverbial waters before opening the other. The lovers looked at each other for moments that seemed to last several lifetimes, noticing stray hairs or wrinkles that had escaped their previous glances.

  
The bastard-born son of King Maric slid out from underneath silken sheets, naked as a babe. He had long since gotten over the self-consciousness that’d plagued him since before he’d hit puberty, and his near-swaggering gait was testament enough to his confidence. As he neared her, Elisabeth’s eyes darkened, pupils blown. Her heart leapt in her throat – it sometimes surprised her how very much his mere presence affected her still, after all those years of fighting side by side, treasuring those precious moments of when the world didn’t need saving and they could just be.

  
A smile curved her lips, a crooked finger raised, eyes half-lidded in the dim light, beckoning enticingly. No words were truly needed between the two, and Alistair captured Elisabeth’s mouth with his own, one hand going behind her head and the other sliding down her waist to rest on her hip. The kiss was slow, smooth and natural – and why shouldn’t it be? – just as it had been for the past decade.

  
Elisabeth pulled back, a devious glint in her eyes. Alistair’s brows rose. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was planning in that head of hers – and, if he were going to be quite honest with himself, he never truly knew what went on behind those big beautiful blue eyes of hers. Of course, her ‘Wicked Grace face’ (as he’d fondly nicknamed the deadpan expression Elisabeth gave him from time to time) was as unreadable as ever.

  
She ducked beneath Alistair’s arm and pinched his ass on her way back to the bed. The mage couldn’t help but smile smugly at the surprised yelp that Alistair let out. It was just too fun to tease him.

  
Elisabeth clambered onto the bed, reclining in such an obvious invitation that even pre-Blight Alistair would’ve been able to pick up on it. It was awkward trying to situate herself, however – she still was not entirely used to her new girth.

  
The young king wasted no time in joining his wife in bed. Elisabeth shivered under his heated gaze. It really was a delicious feeling, being wanted. Nothing she’d ever felt during her time in the Circle, not even in her stolen moments with Cullen or whomever was ready and willing to let off some steam with her. Alistair’s mouth ghosted over hers, just barely brushing against her lips as he gently tugged her loose-weave nightdress up and over her breasts.

  
Elisabeth was never so glad to have a loose negligée as right then. It slid off of her like water and puddled onto the floor where Alistair tossed it. His face lit up like a child’s on Satinalia as he took her in, eyes softening. He leaned down, hands cupping her face as he kissed her again. When he pulled back, Elisabeth was smiling, and so was he.

“I love you so much, Lis.” His wife propped herself up on her elbows and nuzzled Alistair’s neck, basking in the waves of affection rolling off of him. She nipped at his jugular. “Hey! No need to be hasty, love. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

  
Still, Alistair obliged her and captured her mouth with a – very thorough – kiss. A strange fluttering had Elisabeth suddenly pulling away, hands flying to her belly. Alistair immediately scrambled back, questions pouring out of him.

  
“What is it? What’s wrong? Did I hurt the baby?” Under any other circumstances, Elisabeth would’ve laughed, saying something sarcastic. Instead of doing that, she grabbed his hands and pulled them to her midsection.

  
“Shh! Just feel!” The two went silent. For a few moments, Elisabeth was terrified that she’d imagined it. Fortunately, patience and perseverance are often regarded as virtues, and virtues are often rewarded (at least in the books she’d read). The fluttering happened again, this time slightly more insistent.

  
Alistair’s eyes met Elisabeth’s, wide and wondering. “Is… Is that…?”

  
She couldn’t seem to wrangle her tongue into saying what she wanted, so the young woman merely nodded, a slow smile gracing her features. Alistair’s expression mirrored hers, mouth softening into a small smile as he lay both of his hands over her swollen middle.

  
“The baby…” Alistair knelt beside the bed as Elisabeth swung her legs over the edge, and, taking her hands in his, he caressed them, and looked at her with such a strong that it baffled Elisabeth. Could someone love this much? She supposed it was possible, as it was approximately the same amount as what Alistair had in his eyes at that moment. She reached down and took his face in her hands.

  
“You’re going to be a father, Al. How d’you feel about that?”

**Author's Note:**

> [Takes place ~10 years after the Blight - a little before the murder of Divine Justinia V. ALSO: I really think it's stupid how something as little as magic would keep Alistair from marrying a romanced Amell if he becomes king, so you can throw that ridiculous notion out the window.]
> 
> Isn't going to be canon in the Limerence 'verse - just some fluff I was craving. Hope you enjoyed it! <3


End file.
